A New Terror
by keeper-of-grace
Summary: Something is amiss in Middle Earth, can the Fellowship defeat it or will they lose their lives in the process?
1. Prologue

A New Terror The torchlight seeped through the trees in a way that reminded Legolas of the Fellowships encounter with the dreaded Balrog, it's fiery light had snaked into the halls of Moria in a similar fashion. Legolas took a flying leap, cleared the fast approaching rock ledge and made it to the other side, landing painfully on his tired knees. Wincing, he pushed himself up and took off at into the dense forest before him, fleeing like a frightened deer.   


Though noiseless by nature, he could not keep the tight control he had his breath any longer. With great shuddering gasps, he pulled air into his raw and starved lungs. He continued down the steep slope at a break-neck speed, his sharp elven senses letting him know that the foul orcs were getting closer. He had to warn the Fellowship of the approaching scores of enemies.   


Suddenly, a sharp hiss greeted his ears and a shaft slammed into the Prince's left shoulder. The sheer force of the impact throwing him off his feet. He leaned himself against the incline, tears of frustration, pain, and anger coursing down his beautiful face as he fingered the arrow portruding from his rapidly bleeding shoulder. The entire head of the arrow had broken through the front and a good portion had splintered inside the flesh. With deft movements, he broke the head off and removed the flights as well, leaving only the unreachable part buried inside his shoulder.  


Using the tree trunk as a support, he pulled himself up and set off again, the pain of the wound licking down into a blanket of unbearable heat.  


His delay had cost him precious time. He could hear the orcs behind him, chanting a war cry in their gruff voices, their foul language assaulting the elf's ears. The sound of their voices and the words that they spoke gave Legolas a new energy. He put on extra speed, determined to make it to his friends in time.  


Though his endurance was great, he was tiring quickly, the steady blood flow from his wound, the stress of the chase, and the pain in his body were exhausting him even further. He cursed himself for leaving his bow and quiver earlier that morning before he had left on this scouting mission. He soon realized, however, that it wouldn't have made much of a difference, his left arm was hanging, useless, at his side, making his movements awkward and less graceful than usual.  


Legolas burst through the tree line ahead of him, bowling over Gimli and Pippin, who were arguing over who should get the last bit of breakfast. Aragorn, who had been studying the blade of his sword, flashed to his feet, sword held ready to defend. His eyes fell upon Legolas's heaving chest and bloodied shoulder and his expression darkened considerably. "Orcs!", Legolas gasped out. "Orcs and a pack of Uruk-hai behind me. Two score strong, they are, I'm afraid. They're scarcely minutes behind me." Legolas panted as he readied his bow, notching an arrow to the string. His shoulder protested greatly, but, he ignored it.  


As the Fellowship drew their weapons and prepared to fight, Aragorn sidled up to Legolas, a deep concern in his grey eyes.  


"You are wounded, my friend." Aragorn said, eyeing the dark stains of blood trailing down his friends clothing, the crimson color covering almost the whole left side of the tunic.  


"'Tis nothing that can't wait until later." Legolas murmmered, shrugging off Aragorn's worry. However, he was unable to assure the King of Gondor further, for just then, a wave of intense nausea engulfed him with such ferocity that it drove him to his already aching knees. His head hung between his arms, his chin resting on his chest as he waited for the feeling to pass. His head swam and he felt as if he were going to pass out.  


There came a brief touch on his back. Aragorn was saying something to him but his senses were fleeing him quickly. In front of them, the trees seemed to part as the scores of orcs and Uruk-hai poured forth from the woods into the clearing. The Prince of Mirkwood finally gave up the fight against the oppressive blackness clouding his vision. The elf slumped forward over his weapon in a faint, and knew no more. 


	2. In the Beginning

Chapter One *~*Chapter One*~* 

******************************************* 

*Two Months Earlier* 

" Legolas, duck!" a cry came to the Prince's ears just before the blade of a sword soared through the air. It lodged itself into the tree Legolas had been standing in front of only moments ago with a great thud. 

" We need reinforcements! We cannot fight like this forever! They will overcome us." Thindolfin said tiredly. 

" We are wounded my Prince, we must retreat!" Legolas was loath to run from the beasts that were attacking his camp, but, he knew that his companion spoke truly. 

The elves camp was being swarmed with Orcs, their evil auras casting a shadow over the area, the elves, and , it seemed, even the brightly shining sun. 

The Prince of Mirkwood surveyed his comrades. They looked exhausted, their clothing covered with blood, their own as well as that of the Orcs. Legolas himself knew that he looked no better than they did. He could feel his golden hair plastered to his scalp, saturated with sweat and gore. He closed his eyes momentarily and gave a deep sigh. 

" Fall back, take to the trees!" 

The company of elves quickly fell away from the escalating battle. Putting on their last bit of strength, they fled the marauding Orcs, retreating into the less dangerous territories of Mirkwood. 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* 

The King of Gondor stood tall and silent on the balcony, seeing all and nothing simultaneously. The sun had just begun to sink below the terrain in the distance, striking the sky with brilliant colors of purples, oranges, and pinks. 

Aragorn sighed, and looked towards the sky once more. It had been several days since his most trusted scout had been dispatched to retrieve news of the world. Several days had passed, and he had yet to return, nor had any indication of his well-being been sent. 

He sighed again, and ran a hand over his face, worry lines beginning to etch themselves upon his countenance. 

Suddenly, behind him, the heavy door to his chambers was flung open, and a shaken and pale Faramir stood framed in the doorway. 

" My liege," he said with a respectful dip of his head, " there is something you should-...our scout has returned." 

*~~*~~* 

The stench of the corpse reached Aragorn's nose before he held the sight within his vision. 

The scout had been decapitated, then, the head crudely sewn back on with leather strips. The scout's face was frozen in an expression of horror, the pallor of the face a sickly yellowish green. 

There was a thick silence as the King gazed at the mutilated body. Anger and rage surged into Aragorn's heart. 

" His death shall be avenged." He said quietly before turning sharply on his heel and walking away from the scene of death. 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* 

Erithil ran lightly through the hallway, stopping at every corner, peeking discreetly around to make sure he was alone. He darted towards the heavy wooden door situated at the end of the hallway. The boy stood on tiptoe to reach the metal ring on the front, and pulled with all his might. The heavy door swung ponderously open with a slight creak. 

Erithil winced at the noise, and scanned the hallway behind him, hoping fervently that no one had heard. He tentatively stepped into the dank room, and the door immediately swung shut behind him, leaving an ominous echo in its wake. He swung around at the noise, his heart beating erratically in his ears. Hesitantly, he turned back to the expanse of the room, letting his eyes rove across the meticulously organized scrolls. 

He started forward, a look of awe on his young face. His bright eyes came to rest on a jewel-encrusted goblet, perched atop a high reaching encasement. The gems glinted curiously in the dim light of the chamber. 

Slowing his pace, Erithil gazed at the enticing artifact, longing to touch it. He cast his eyes about the room for something he could stand on, anything he could use to reach the beautiful chalice. He spied a stool in the corner, half hidden by the room's deep shadows. Without any hesitation, he dragged it over to the encasement, and pulled himself up on top of it. He was just short of reaching it. 

The boy's brow furrowed in concentration as he pondered his dilemma. He stood again on tiptoe, his hand straining to reach the coveted prize. Almost! He scowled until another idea struck him. He jumped slightly, his hand closing on empty air. He tried once more, this time a little higher. His fingers just brushed the surface of the goblet. He jumped as high as he could and grabbed the goblet, feeling the jewels press into his palm. 

The moment his feet touched the stool, it gave way, collapsing under his weight. The elvish youth managed a strangled cry before he hit the floor, the pretty thing flying out of his hand. He sat up, rubbing his head, and looked skyward right as the encasement's contents came crashing down upon him. 

Erithil threw up his arms over his head as he was showered by the ancient writings. He stifled a sneeze, and made his way out of the pile of parchment, searching for the chalice. The object sat a few feet away from him. Erithil stooped to pick it up, and the object fell away into two pieces in his hands. 

Dismayed, the boy inspected the broken goblet carefully. He reached down into the base of it, surprised to find it hollow. He slowly drew out a rolled up piece of yellow parchment, sealed with an ancient elvish seal. The youth hurriedly rolled the parchment open, spying the faded elvish writings...it read... 

A change is coming,  
A shadow is growing,  
Choking the life out of Middle Earth.  
It will destroy those who live for good,  
Those who live in the light,  
There is, however, One whose light is bright enough to defeat this darkness.  
One with hair of gold,  
Eyes as blue as the heaving sea,  
One who dwells in leaves of green,  
One who hails from the lineage of old,  
The One whom this evil will seek.  
Beneath the sky, beyond the sea, behind a gate,only the One can see.  
His destiny awaits upon a throne, a crown of mithrail in the sunlight glows,  
Treading through a land with soil like coal,  
This quest shall take his immortal soul.  


Erithil gasped, balling the paper up in his small hand. He shoved it into his pocket, hoping to take it with him. He made his way back to the door at the entrance of the room. He casually stepped out and began walking back to his chamber, a secretive smile on his face, his hand shoved in his pocket, fingering his newfound treasure. 


	3. Arguments, Embarrassments and Meetings

Chapter Two *Just a little not, we don't own anything, don't sue us. If you do, all you will get are some paper clips a few pictures and two notebooks ( one of which costs 89 cents). If you see a name you don't recognize, it's probably ours. Also, by ours, I mean mine and my counter part, Mini-Me (A*K*A* Nancy). Please read and review.) 

***************************** 

Legolas burst through the doors of the royal dining hall. His clothing tattered and dirty, his hair loose and disheveled. He looked around frantically, panting after he and his company had fled home after the orc attack. It took him a few short moments to catch his breath and notice the utter silence hanging in the air. 

It was at that moment that he finally took note of the crowd that consumed the space of the sprawling room. He froze, surprised horror etched onto his handsome face. "...He- Hello.." Legolas nervously stuttered, self consciously tucking a rebellious lock of flaxen hair behind his softly pointed ear. 

A beat passed, the Prince could feel the eyes of the entire royal family pasted on him, following his every move. He took a deep breath, ready to make his way out of the room as gracefully as possible when suddenly, his upper arm was grasped in an iron like grip. His father had come up behind him; his calm expression contradicting the insanely strong hold he had on his sons' arm. 

"Excuse us," King Thranduil said with an air of nonchalance, "My son and I need to speak briefly. I shall return soon." The King began exiting the room at a fast pace, practically jerking his apprehensive son behind him. 

***************** "How dare you embarrass this family in such a manner!! Waltzing into the hall like you haven't any sort of training at all! You look like some sort of wandering peasant, covered in dirt and grit. Have you forgotten where you come from? What you are supposed to be?!" Thranduils voice boomed. 

Legolas averted his eyes, not wanting to meet his fathers' angry gaze. He had learned long ago to just take whatever was thrown at him. It was a well-known fact that it was impossible to win a match of wills against the King of Mirkwood. 

On and on the Kings tirade went, often times blaming Legolas for events that he knew nothing about, things that were not his fault. Lately, his father had taken to letting his aggression out on Legolas, letting all of his frustration roll out when he and Legolas argued. In fact, it happened so often that, sooner or later, all of the fights seem to sound the same.... Always the same. He often wondered why the King placed the blame on him and never any of his brothers. They were the precocious ones, not him. 

Returning his attention to his father, he noticed that Thranduil had quieted and was staring at him. He had noticed long ago that Legolas was not listening to him and had let his heated words trail off into a defeated silence. 

"Have you no respect for your father? Your King? What is happening to you, Legolas? Why is it that you are the only one of my sons to ignore his stature? You are royalty, you are expected to act a certain way, expected to be an example for all those around you. I cannot continue to let this behavior go unpunished, I'll not have our good name soiled by an insubordinate, headstrong elf. I will not let this happen." Thranduil shook his head disappointedly. "Leave now, I no longer wish to see your face. Go." He sighed and dismissed his son with a tired wave of his hand. 

The Prince let out a deep sigh as he closed the door to his room. " why am I always the one to be blamed?" he muttered sullenly to himself as he shrugged out of his tattered tunic. 

He scowled then, half in annoyance, half out of anger, and inspected the cuts on his arms and chest. They were scratches, really. Nothing a hot bath wouldn't care. 

He approached the tub and was surprised to find his bath already drawn. He quickly shed the rest of his ruined clothing, and slowly eased himself into the steaming water. 

A relieved sigh escaped him as he closed his eyes. He was quite ready to enjoy this welcomed respite. Legolas cleaned the signs of battle from his body, thinking absently about his father. He was so engrossed in his thoughts, that he failed to hear the telltale signs of his friends, the Fellowship, standing at his door. 

If he had been listening, he would have recognized Aragorn's amused, but slightly exasperated tone explaining to the hobbits why they were there. Legolas only sank deeper into the water, his mind completely elsewhere. 

There came thunderous bang on the door to his room was flung wide open. The Mirkwood Prince started at the noise, water sloshing over the edge of the tub, onto the floor. 

"Legolas?" a rough voice called. " I believe I'm ready for a nice hot bath!" interrupted a voice that was unmistakably Pippin's. Legolas' eyes grew wide as he stiffened in shock. The entire Fellowship had just waltzed into his chambers completely unannounced. 

He could only stare,speechless, as they turned around, searching for him. Their eyes fell upon the Prince, sitting straight as a ramrod in the bathtub. There was a thick silence, before Gimli broke out into racous laughter, throwing his head back. Instantly, Legolas' ears flushed, and he instinctively sunk lower into the water. 

Aragorn turned his head slightly, trying to hide his smile. Merry and Pippin were snorted uproariously. Sam and Frodo tried gallantly to hide their chuckles, but they soon dissolved into a fit of laughter. 

" Did we catch you at a bad time?" Gimli asked, in an amused tone, his eyes twinkling. 

Legolas scowled at the dwarf, and reached for the towel sitting by the tub. Gimli flashed forward and grabbed the towel, dangling it just out of the Prince's reach. Legolas clenched his jaw, and suddenly Aragorn stopped laughing. He had seen that look before, and it meant that Legolas was dangerously angry. 

" Peace,Gimli." Aragorn tried, hoping Legolas would not lose his temper. Aragorn had spoken with Thindolfin briefly before going to find Legolas, and he had learned of the heated argument between the Prince and his father. He didn't know why Legolas was letting it get to him, but decided he did not have enough information yet. 

" They boast of the beauty of Elves," Gimli said. " But here is one aspect that is less than beautiful!" he broke out into another roar of laughter, doubling over because he was laughing so hard. 

Legolas set his jaw, and narrowed his eyes. Faster than any mortal eye could follow, he sprang from the tub, grabbed the other end of the towel that Gimli held, and swung it around, wrapping it about his waist as he did so. It was a nimble trick, one that neatly flung Gimli abruptly forward, into the tub. "How do you like that, Master Dwarf?" the Prince asked easily, a small smile forming on his features. He knew Gimli hated water. 

"I do not mind the water." The dwarf replied just as easily. " It was the naked elf leaping at me moments before that has put me into shock." 

The Prince's ears flushed pink once more, and turning on his heel, he marched past the tub and shoved the dwarf under the water savagely with his elbow. His action was accomplished and smooth, as only an elf could manage. He grabbed the change of clothes he had laid out, and stalked past Aragorn, muttering darkly to himself. 

Aragorn turned to watch him leave, and glanced at the Fellowship. Frodo and Sam were attempting to help Gimli from the tub, but were doing a rather abysmal job. Gimli was no help either, for he was still chuckling over Legolas' reaction. He hoped Legolas wasn't too offended. He knew the elf to be prideful, as most elves were. 

*************************** 

Legolas slinked into the meeting hall, hair wet and tied into a low ponytail. He had a slight pout on his face, still seething at the blatant invasion of this privacy. 

" I trust you had a nice bath, Master Elf." Came the taunting voice of his supposed best friend Gimli. The hobbits all promptly clamped their hands over their mouths in an attempt to stifle their giggles. 

" Easy, Gimli..." Aragorn said, his voice sympathetic but backed with amusement. He tried to keep his face schooled into an impassive expression, but the elf saw through it. He could see the barely there smile and the twinkle in his eyes as he spoke and that annoyed him more than anything. 

" Perhaps, my friends, if you feel the need to taunt me because I took a bath, then perhaps I've been keeping the wrong company all these years." Legolas slowly panned the room as he spoke, enjoying the way everyones grin melted away into expressions of self conciousness. 

Aragorn smiled secretly at the Prince's swift comeback. " He was never one to back down, was he?" the King thought to himself as he watched Legolas gracefully take his seat, a smug look on his face. 

" I see you father has yet to arrive, Legolas. Have you any clue as to what is delaying him? There are many things that we need to speak of." Aragorn voiced, glancing quickly at the empty seat at the head of the long table. 

At the mention of his father, the Prince's face immediately took on a dark and closed off look. " I know not where mythe King is. I am not my father's keeper, there are others to do that job." His voice was sharper than he intended, but he cared not. 

Swiftly, he rose and made his way to the covered balcony, expertly avoiding anyone's direct gaze. He didn't wish for them to see the white hot anger boiling just below the surface of his soul. " I assume that he will be here shortly. " Legolas threw this over his shoulder. It was his own way of amending for his earlier words. 

Silence enveloped the brightly lit room. Each had their own story to tell, their own horror to relay, but they knew that the time to share had not yet arrived. 

Legolas stared out at the landscapeof his home. His elven eyes letting him see every detail of what went on. He could see every detail of every leaf in every tree surrounding his father's dwelling. He loved the way the leaves of the trees were a deep forest green, laced with tendrils of gold. Such beauty...and he could barely wait to leave. 

" Something troubles you, my friend." Aragorn said, quietly coming up behind Legolas. 

"It is nothing really, you need not concern yourself with me." the Mirkwood Prince murmured, never taking his gaze from the expanse of the woods. 

Aragorn watched him, scrutinizing ever detail of his friend, looking for a way to get him to open up. "So much pride..." the King said, almost in a whisper. "It helps to talk, you know..." he continued at Legolas's sharp look, "Not everything must be handled alone." The two stared at each other for a few moments before a loud ruckus arose from inside the meeting hall, causing both Aragorn and Legolas to turn quickly towards the open door, the laughter of the hobbits floating to meet them. 

Aragorn stole one last glance at the elf before entering the room to investigate the noise. Legolas let him go, feeling no need to enter the room. His nerves were still raw and he knew that regardless of his great love for the four hobbits, their excessive happiness might cause him to be sick. Even the sun shone happily that day, the only clouds that could be seen were far off in the distance. It was a gorgeus day, perfect for laughing and being with the ones you loved. 'How I wish that just once the weather could reflect my mood.' 

The Prince rolled his eyes and took a deep breath. He was doing all that he could to prepare himself for what he knew was going to be a grueling endeavor. 

****************** 

(Meanwhile, with Erithil) 

Erithil chuckled to himself and looked about furtively. The Royal House was empty except for the meeting hall. The other elves had gone in search of orc parties at Thranduil's command. He drew the base of the broken goblet from his tunic and held it up, letting the rays of the late sun catch the antiqued gold. He turned it over and tried to read the script once more. 

Several minutes of hard scrutiny got him nowhere. Deciding that the goblet would make an excellent addition to his play things, he rose and turned to leave the side hallway. Not watching where he was going, he ran right into his mother. Both were speechless for a moment before Erithil launched into a defensive spiel and his mother,Dimminuial, began to berate him fiercely. Her eyes finally flitted over to the small trinket he carried and she snatched it from his small hand. His mother siezed his ear and pulled the unwilling child towards the meeting hall. 

*A.N. _Sorry for the long delay on this chapter, my counter part and I went through a prolonged stage of extreme stupidity. We have returned though. Also, sorry that this chapter is kind of boring, we needed a filler. Also, Gandalf makes his appearance. Review please!!_* 


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